


Rebuilding

by Ulan



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Making Up, Rivendell | Imladris, Third Age, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 10:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: Glorfindel had this quiet intensity about him that only ever came out after a fight.





	Rebuilding

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably apologise for this recurring theme, but I feel like I need more married Glorfindel and Erestor in my life, and make-up stories are always sweet to me. ♥ The rainy seasons have also officially begun where I am, and it is my favourite season especially for writing. I do admit though that it inspires more subdued themes than not. ^^;

Glorfindel had this thing about him that came out only after a fight. 

That they fought at all was in itself something of a marvel. The gentle temperament of the Vanyar was the stuff of legends, although Erestor knew so few of those people that he could not really say how true the stories were. He could, however, at least attest to the temperament of his own spouse, who over the years proved to them time and time again that there was little that can rattle the unflappable Lord Glorfindel. 

But of course despite all that, they did fight and argue like many couples did - and if Elrond and his training as a healer were to be trusted, as all couples _should_. Erestor could at least admit that of course they would fight, because he did not become chief counsellor for being the kind of person who just let things pass, and issues needed to be raised or else they would fester and grow. They _should_ settle things, for otherwise when the tides rise, what would they be but flimsy houses standing on rotting stilts? And so they discussed things, but occasionally discussions would escalate because of course, in private, Glorfindel was not so perfectly unflappable, and Erestor was hardly always a diplomat. 

Whether couples should or should not fight was immaterial, for all fights how ever well-meaning at first were still painful. Erestor was not even above pettiness on the occasions when he honestly thought Glorfindel had been lacking. And so after heated arguments, there were instances when he would not speak to Glorfindel at all. They could, depending on the scale of the fight, go for weeks at a time without speaking. Anyway, it seemed such lulls were necessary, for Glorfindel once confided that Erestor had a way with words that cut deep, and so those times apart did help him somehow, even if they were not exactly pleasant and made him miss Erestor all the more. 

But every time they came together again brought such relief. Often, they would come together again out of necessity, for as senior members of Elrond's household they did need to work together. Proud though they both were, they were not so childish as to let private matters get in the way of concerns of the valley, and so when they work together it was always sincere. After spending a full afternoon conversing and just being in each other's company, at the end of such days it just seemed silly to return to not speaking. Anyway, by then they were already lonely and heart-worn. One of them would apologise, and they would go from there. 

There were also times when making up was more purposive, because one of them (usually Glorfindel) had had enough of fighting and would then coax the other into making up. They have been married for some time but they were not past romantic gestures. There were days when Erestor would just find flowers on his desk, or perhaps there beside his quill would be a cup of his favourite tea with a side of honey cakes. 

Gifts were not Erestor's forte, so on days that it was his turn to need his spouse sooner, he usually just opted to be straightforward, and he would carefully ease himself into Glorfindel's space and just embrace him. Glorfindel used to jokingly complain that Erestor was not affectionate enough, and so when he did initiate gestures of affection, they were fortunately always welcome. During such times, Glorfindel would usually smile - not always, for sometimes the fights were Erestor's fault, and so Glorfindel would need to get the frustration out and sigh at Erestor first in exasperation, but always he would hold him back. 

How ever differently they reunited, evenings were always spent the same way. Despite being able to speak and touch again, those days apart and the pain of sharp words uttered left cracks between them that needed mending. Glorfindel, too, had the fragile sort of heart that needed much appeasing after being hurt, though it did not really show and was something Erestor only learned much later when he was able to piece together the clues.

Glorfindel had this quiet sort of intensity that came out when they laid at night after a fight. Granted, to begin with, he was always good at knowing how to pleasure Erestor, who had experienced a great range of his love from slow and gentle lovemaking, the occasionally playful teasing, or even those with the confidence and gall that would have Erestor tied to their bedposts and screaming Glorfindel's name into the night.

But while those other ways came to Glorfindel on a whim, with Erestor none the wiser until his husband had tackled him on to the ground, how they were that night was only ever after fights. 

Glorfindel seldom spoke during such times, but he did put all his focus solely on Erestor. It was almost predatory, the way his blue eyes flashed in the low light. Glorfindel was large, his glorious golden hair even a bright mane that fell down his shoulders and muscled arms when he loomed above Erestor, and the sight never failed to make Erestor's breath hitch, his blood to race. 

They had been married long, but Erestor had also followed Glorfindel with his eyes and lusted after him for much longer. Glorfindel was beautiful beyond words, broad and tall and with such strength in him that never failed to make Erestor weak in the knees, even back when they were but colleagues and Erestor had to pretend that he was unaffected. It therefore did not take much for Glorfindel to have him near trembling beneath him in anticipation now, though Erestor still sought not to let it show. 

Still, when Glorfindel kissed him, it was always with fire ignited deep within Erestor. His kisses burned with slow-crawling heat from Erestor's lips down to his neck and everywhere else he touched. His fingers slid down lightly, slowly, stoking the fire until it was burning in Erestor's chest, at the pit of his stomach, surging up his hardening cock.

At times like this, Glorfindel's eyes never strayed from Erestor's face. In the past, he might be distracted by little things - the source of a sound or the need to peek down to check where his hands were supposed to go. But these days he knew Erestor's body well enough to know where things were, as though he needed only to drag his fingers along an area of skin and he would know exactly where he was. He could therefore find Erestor's cock with practised ease, which he did so now, coaxing it to full hardness with the heat of an oiled fist. 

Their bed was positioned near a window, which Glorfindel faced as he lounged on his side, lifted at the elbow with Erestor's head pillowed on his arm. Erestor could therefore see the way his eyes shone in the dim moonlight, how intently Glorfindel watched his face as he pleasured him with his hand. Erestor could only imagine how badly he flushed as Glorfindel lifted and guided one of his legs up, eyes never straying, before then dragging his fingers back down to slide two of them inside Erestor. 

It was always so good. Given the solemn intensity of such nights, Erestor sought to match Glorfindel's silence, but that only meant his moans were relegated to broken sounds, head thrown back and mouth open in silent screams as Glorfindel buried those fingers deep within him. Glorfindel had this way of preparing him that doubled as foreplay, curling his fingers even as he stretched the tightness of those walls, fingertips caressing that point that had Erestor's hips rising from the bed, arching up to Glorfindel, legs spreading for him even wider. 

It really did not take much, and surely Glorfindel knew it. He played Erestor's body with his fingers as expertly as a minstrel would a harp or a lute, easily eliciting sounds Erestor fought hard to quell. Given how bad his state already was, it was a relief for Erestor to finally feel the unmistakable bulge pressing against his side, to hear Glorfindel's shallow breathing as he continued to fuck Erestor with his fingers. 

He rested his forehead against Erestor's, eyes open and watching still, vigilant for every twitch, every reaction, so he could push those sensations further until Erestor was a sobbing mess in his arms. Erestor's fingers shook as he sought Glorfindel's hair for purchase, but he met that gaze though his own were at half-mast, their heated breaths mixing in the small space between their open mouths. 

Glorfindel seldom spoke during such times, punctuating the silence perhaps only to check Erestor with a breathy, "All right?" or perhaps a whispered, "Yes?" He seldom spoke, but sometimes it was as though he knew Erestor needed to hear his voice, deep and rough with arousal, to get him further. And so Glorfindel would sometimes urge him on with almost a teasing, "Good?" or even Erestor's favourite, which he used now and which never failed to get Erestor's face aflame, the thrill to shoot up his spine: "More?" 

Yes, more. Always more, because Erestor could not get enough, and he said so now with the way his body moved, sensual and needy and pressed up against Glorfindel. Even if they started out with Glorfindel as the desperate one in these reunions, somehow he also brought Erestor with him as easily as he could convince his men to charge to war. He had that way about him that made you want to follow, and he awarded Erestor's obedience every time by spiriting him away to pleasured heights that he only ever found whenever they were like this, fresh from a fight, their heart wounds fresh and open still and needing that assurance, that steady comfort from a slow-burning night of lovemaking. 

Always Glorfindel drew things out, so that when he finally gave in and sheathed his cock deep inside Erestor, his poor husband was trembling beneath him, his groan of pleasure and relief reverberating around their enclosed quarters. If Erestor knew any better, he would even say that Glorfindel aimed for such a reaction, for once or twice he had caught that longing and nearly feral look on Glorfindel's face before he buried it on Erestor's neck, hiding himself from view. Erestor seldom had the chance to complain because by then Glorfindel would begin his hard and steady thrusting, his cock hot inside him and so satisfyingly big, filling Erestor to capacity in that way he so loved. Erestor basked in that slow and intense loving, shivering when Glorfindel entwined their fingers and pinned his hands on the bed, swallowing his excited gasp in a kiss.

This time, Glorfindel had stacked the pillows high, upon which he now pulled Erestor so he was nearly seated on Glorfindel's lap and lounging back against the pillows. Glorfindel then pressed his weight against the body beneath his and continued those delicious thrusting. He was most prone to pinning Erestor down during these kinds of nights. It was something Erestor could understand, too, for during such nights he needed to feel Glorfindel against him, needed to convince himself that this was never going away no matter how badly they fought or disagreed.

And so Erestor just surrendered, helpless to do anything else, for Glorfindel was a steady weight that kept him from moving, allowing naught else but for him to fall back against the pillows and arch up against that hard body. Fingers curled against those slick biceps that trapped him in their embrace and it was glorious, to be the focus of such intensity and attention, to just lie there and be able to do nothing but take it. Glorfindel fucked him like he was desperate for it, too, as though the claiming - with Erestor's fingers in his hair, smooth legs spread for him and just _letting_ him take and take - was every bit a necessity to mend his heart broken by the one person he ever allowed to do so.

Erestor could not tell if their peak signalled for him a regretful ending to something he could probably keep doing until Arda's end, or if it was the beautiful sight of land on the horizon after a long and rich journey. Glorfindel would always signal that he was close by kissing Erestor, hard and demanding and coaxing Erestor's mouth to open so he could then fuck that wet cavern in turn with his tongue, in time with the thrusting of his cock. It never failed to bring Erestor _right there_ , and so he shuddered through his orgasm, pulling Glorfindel fully along with him. Warm seed spilled inside him just as his spurted out between them, making a mess of things though Glorfindel did not seem to mind. He wrapped his hand around Erestor's cock, pulling out a moan as he used the fresh slick there to milk Erestor absolutely dry. 

But Erestor knew that it was the moment afterward, that slow coming down from that high, that Glorfindel needed the most. In that moment, buried inside his husband still, Glorfindel would clutch Erestor tightly and kiss him everywhere he could reach. Gentle fingers would, as they did now, brush the hair from Erestor's face, and Glorfindel would kiss him, one after another, on his lips, on his cheeks, even on the tip of his nose or the shell of an ear, which even drew a tired laugh from Erestor. It was also then that Glorfindel would say, "I love you, I love you..." over and over and over until Erestor was filled to bursting, and would pull Glorfindel's face to him and kiss him, on the lips, long and sweet and as though never-ending, so long would it be before they let each other go.

It was in that moment that they reformed whatever was broken, mending what wounds remained open from the lashes of their words, the chill of days of neglect, pouring reassurance at the cracks where they might have inadvertently inserted doubt. 

Afterwards, Glorfindel would wrap the covers about them, pulling them even over their heads so that they were lost in their own little world. They would spend the rest of the night just like that, unmoving and content, until the day breaks again and they find that the mortars they poured the night before had dried. Then they would talk, with hands held still under the covers, fully restoring things between them so that they came out even stronger.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr ](http://glorfindel-of-imladris.tumblr.com).


End file.
